Evie and the Doctor
by Tardis-Impala-equals-Delorean
Summary: Evie has been abused since a child, and became a cutter. No one seems to care, except for an odd man who wears a bowtie, and calls himself the Doctor.


I ran behind the empty stage, and hid in the storage room, where all the larger props are kept. I dug in my bag and pulled out a small black box I kept in the very bottom. I looked around, making sure no one was there. I opened the lid, and pulled out a razor blade, bandages, and an antiseptic wipe. My arm itched to be cut. Whenever I was about to cut, it felt like my skin was being stretched, as the only way to relieve it was to cut it. Otherwise it would rip. I slid down the wall, and sat cross legged. I drew the blade across my skin, and sighed in relief as I felt the blood run down my hand. I sat like that for a moments, then cleaned the fresh cut with an antiseptic wipe, and bandage it up. I slipped my little black box of secrets in my bag.

I had been cutting for 5 years I think. Not sure. It kind of just blurred together really. When I was 7, my mom had died, and my father just lost it. I only call him father because, "it shows respect, and you must show your father respect!" At first it was just a slap for getting a bad grade, but then when that didn't cut it, he started to punch and kick. I hid them as well as I could with makeup, long clothes, and dark glasses. He got crafty though. He placed his punches were no one would notice, but I could have bruises all over my face and no one would notice, let alone care.

I placed my big headphones over my ears, and played my music on shuffle. Mad World by Gary Jules. I rocked my head back and forth with the music, singing quietly. I looked around at all the props. There was a new one. A large blue box that had Police Public Call Box. It was the boxes that police used in the 60's in England. I studied it. It was a beautiful deep blue, and even the light bulb on top appeared to be functional. "Hmm." It was completely silent for a good 5 minutes, until the bell rang. Students would be filling into 6th period, talking to their friends, reapplying makeup. I did that too, just way different, like applying concealer to cover the purple bruises on my arms, and talking to my blades.

I didn't get up from my seat. I could feel the tears streaming down my face. I wiped at the tears, but it was useless. All I could do was refrain from sobbing. I could feel all the pain welling up in my throat. I gasped, and buried my head in my hands. A pair of strong hands grabbed my shaking shoulders, and I flinched back, banging my head on the wall. My hand instinctively went to my head, and saw that I hadn't hidden the bandage. I quickly lowered the sleeve, hoping they wouldn't notice.

The man looked down at me with concerned green eyes. His hair was light brown and bounced with every step. His tweed jacket covered a white button up, red suspenders, slacks, and a bright blue bowtie. "Are you all right little girl?" I glared at him. "I'm 15 not 5."_ Help me! Please!_ "Are you all right?" he asked again. I wiped the last of the tears away, and nodded. _ Of course I'm not okay! Look at me! _ "Then why are you crying?" I sniffled. "Oh the usual. Girls being mean," I lied. He didn't seem to believe me, but dropped it. "What about your arm?" I rubbed the arm unconsciously. "Clipped it on a bike rack," I lied again. I had perfected my lies over years of practice. I could probably convince a highly trained FBI agent I didn't kill someone, even if he saw me do it.

He sat beside me, his thin legs extending about a foot past mine. He reached his hand over to me, and I made sure to keep the scars covered while I shook. "I'm Mr. Smith, subbing for Mr. Williams." He took a leather wallet out and flashed a piece of paper at me. I raised my eyebrows at him. "You do know that's blank?" He frowned and glanced at the paper. He sighed. "It does that sometimes." "Evie." He looked at the Police Box. "You know I'm going to have to send you to class?" I sighed my –_My life sucks-_ sigh, and stood up. He stood up, and watched me walk across the gym to the hallway. "Take care of yourself Evie," he yelled to me. I just waved behind me, and walked out.

Chapter 2

The street light flickered a yellowish orange, barely lighting the sidewalk enough to see my feet. The wind started to pick up. My golden brown hair blew into my face, and I spit it out. I hugged my books tight to my chest, hoping to block some of the wind. It didn't. In fact, it seemed to get colder.

I looked up at the sky, and the stars glinted brightly. The full moon stared back at me, and the sky surrounding it was clear of all clouds. It was beautiful, in its vastness. The colors popped like bubblegum. In the distance was the little violet speck that was Venus. I remembered my mother telling me about Venus when I was young. "Venus, is the only planet in our solar system named after a woman." I smiled at the memory, but a tear escaped. I blinked back the rest. Why ruin a perfectly good evening with tears.

It was quiet, not a single sound but the wind, and the pounding of music from the church ahead. I continued walking, until the quiet was broken by a wheezing sound. I looked around, but saw nothing that could have created the noise. I rubbed my arm, and winced, almost forgetting about the fresh cut. I was still cutting, yes. But this one was caused by father. I had forgotten to take out the trash yesterday.

I kept walking, my floor length black dress only a few inches from the ground. The midriff was crisscrossed lines that clung tightly to me stomach. The sleeves went all the way to my wrists. The vibrant red heels clicked loudly. As I approached the church, I hear the music quite, and the traditional music play as the bride walks down the aisle. I slip inside, and silently closed the door. No one notices my entrance, all eyes on the bride.

The room screamed cliché. The bride, my prude aunt, was wearing a big puffy white dress with her daughters throwing pink rose petals around her. Her bleach blonde hair was tied up in a bun, and kept up in a diamond barrette. The people in the pews ignored me, or didn't notice, either one. Down the aisle stood Mark, the groom. He was decent enough, in the way were he didn't do anything to me, but didn't help me either. He would just stand off to the side, watching. He got some kind of sick pleasure out of it or something.

I stood by the back of the room, and look around to see if I can spot anyone I know. I saw my father at the free bar, most likely passed out. Near the front is a woman I remember from when I was young. Martha, I think it was nice. She was a kindly older woman. She gave me a cookie once, but I got yelled at for spilling crumbs on my bed. Other than that I didn't really know anyone.

All the women were wearing short cocktail dresses, usually white or light colored. I was the only one in black. My aunt said I should wear white, since it's a color of purity, but neither of us are at all pure. The men wore tuxedos, and suits. All except one man who stood in the very back of the room. He wore a tweed jacket and slacks, red suspenders on a white button up, and a red bowtie. His hair was a light brown and shaggy. His eyes were such a bright green, that I could see the color from the other side of the room. His stood there, like he was watching over the church. Protecting it.

He frowned, and reached into his jacket, pulling out a slender metal thing, with a little bulb on the end. He pressed the button, and the bulb illuminated green. A quite buzzing noise emanated from the tool, but it was faint in the music. He flicked his wrist, and studied the side of it. He looked, worried, mixed with excitement. He looked around, searching for something. His eyes made their way to me, still watching him curiously. I blushed and looked away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him. He continued to stare at me intently. It was really awkward. Finally the ceremony ended, and everyone filtered into the other room for the reception. I filed in, and sat at the small table I had been assigned. Only an older couple were also assigned to the table, but they were "mingling" in the crowd. I sat down, and sipped on some Champaign I wasn't supposed to be drinking. "Gross," I muttered spitting it back in the glass. "Agreed," a man said. I put the glass down quickly, and sat up straight in my chair.

I look up and see the man in the tweed jacket. I immediately look away and blush. "Hi," I said quietly. "Hello," he said kindly. I'm silent for a moment, and can feel his eyes scanning me. I twirl the pendant around my neck. "I like your pendent," he says. I look down at it. The purple amethyst that is imbedded in the metal disk, covered in engravings. I smile slightly. "Thanks. It was a gift from my mom." He looked in my eyes, and I did all I could to not fidget in my chair. "Your eyes are purple." I sighed my "_no shit_!" sigh. I tried not to be sarcastic. My father hated it when I was, and he was frowning at me from across the room. "They are sir," I said. I had gotten in the habit of calling men sir, and women mam.

He frowned again. "Please, don't call me sir." I looked at my hands. "Sorry." He reached out to me. "I'm the Doctor. The one and only." I shook with him. "Evie. And if you don't mind me asking, what's that little light thingy?" He pulled out the tool I had seen before. "This? This is a sonic screwdriver." He seemed quite proud of it. "What? Had a lot of shelves to put up?" He looked taken aback. "Actually yes. Don't judge! I was bored." I laughed for real. It was nice to laugh. I hadn't laughed in a long time I realized.

"Well Evie, I like your… dress." I raised one eyebrow. "Something wrong with my outfit?" his eyes widened. "No! That's not what I meant! It's just, no one is… No!" he stumbled over his words. I laughed again. It was weird to laugh this much. "Calm down Doctor, I was joking." He calmed down a little, but still squirmed a bit. "I don't do tradition is all," I explained. "This dress is the only dress I own with sleeves." He nodded. "Well, I guess I can't say anything," he said gesturing to his bowtie. "What's wrong with the bowtie," I asked confused. He smiled. "You like the tie." I nodded. "Why wouldn't I?" he smiled even wider. "It's just most people don't like it, at least Amy didn't…" he trailed off. "Who was she," I asked. "You don't have to tell me." He shook his head. "No it's fine. She was an old friend. She's gone now. I use to, travel with her and Rory, her husband." I nodded.

After a moment of awkward silence he said, "Sorry to bring the mood down." "Don't be." He grabbed a glass from the table and took a drink, only to spit it back out. "Should've seen that coming." I only smiled this time, the temporary wave of happiness slowly draining from me. Maybe it was the Champagne. I rubbed my arm where the most recent cuts were. He frowned. "Have we met before?" I thought about it. How familiar this man seemed to be. I couldn't quite place my finger on it. Then it hit me. "Did you ever sub for Mr. Williams a few years back? At Leota?" He smiled. "Yes that's it. I had to send you back to class." I nodded remembering the reason why I was back stage. I started to zone out. "Are you all right," he asked concerned. I snapped back to reality. "Yeah, just staring off into space." He chuckled like I had said something ironic.

My father came over, and glared at the Doctor, but he didn't seem to notice. "Evelin," he said gruffly. "Don't be bothering this man." He turned his attention back to me. "And how dare you wear the devil's color to your dear aunts wedding! We will be discussing this when we get home." I didn't dare look at either of them, instead settling on my hands, and nodded. "Yes sir." He walked away.

"Who was that?" I grimaced. "My father." He frowned. "He's very religious." I explain. That was partly true anyway. I don't understand how he can be so religious yet still drink constantly, and beat me for everything I do. I rubbed my arm subconsciously. He reached forward, and I flinched. He paused, and looked me dead in the eyes. "What has he done to you?" I shifted under his intense stair. "Nothing," I said, most likely unconvincing. I looked up, and saw people were leaving, and my dad waving at me impatiently. "I have to go," I said glad for an excuse. I stood up, and when I walked past his chair, I felt his hand on my wrist. I pulled away, and pretty much ran outside.

I felt the tears streaming down my face before I got outside. I walked home, books tight to my chest. I walked all the way home in the dark. By the time I got home, it was midnight. Father was sitting on the couch, vodka in hand, and a football game blaring. I tried to sneak past him, but I stepped on the floor board that always creaked. I heard the slamming of his bottle on the table, and I sprinted upstairs. I was at my door, when I was pulled back by the hair, and thrown down the stairs. I tumbled down like a sack of potatoes, and landed in a heap of fabric at the foot of the stairs. I heard the popping of my shoulder dislocating, and already felt the bruises forming. I didn't dare make a sound. That's just what he wanted.

I felt the kick to my abdomen that shook my whole body. I heard the ribs crack under the pressure of 5 more kicks. I whimpered. He yanked me up by my hair, and looked me in the eyes. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. "You shouldn't have worn the Devil's color to such a magnificent event sweetheart." I grimaced. I hated it when he called me sweet heart. He punched me in the nose, and it broke, again. I shuddered. "And, you, better, not, tell, anyone!" with every word, I earned a harsh slap across the face. He dragged me up the stairs, and down the hall. We passed my door, and I knew what was happening. I screamed. "Please! No! I'm sorry! I won't tell anyone! I promise!" he slapped me again. "Shut up you little bitch!" He dragged me to the end of the hall to his bedroom.

I won't go into detail about what happened. I bet you can guess though.

I woke up in a ball on my bed. My hair was ratty, and my pj's dirty. I pulled myself out of bed, and almost shrieked. The pain was so bad, and crumpled to the floor crying. The house was silent, so I knew Mark wasn't here. Probably at the bar again. After sobbing on the floor for a good 5 minutes, I dragged myself into a steaming shower, and scrubbed until every inch of skin was raw. I wished the water could wash away the events of last night, but I knew it couldn't. I sat on my bed, wearing plain jeans and a comfy black V-neck. I wrote in my notebook. It was the equivalent of a diary. Pretty much just an empty book, with hardback brown covers, and blank pages. I poured my inner-most thoughts into them. Favorite quotes, drawings, stories, and plain old diary entries about my day. I tried to write about last night, but I couldn't for too long. At least not enough for details.

I turned the familiar pages, and started sketching the Blue Police box that I had seen in 8th grade, the day I met the Doctor. I had tried to draw it before, but I always felt like something was missing. I gave up drawing, and wrote a story. My stories were always short without an ending. I hated endings. Those were the hard parts. This one started with a boy at the old library in his small country town. A new girl with crazy clothes and hair comes in, and while everyone is wearing dark clothes, she is wearing pinks and bright blues. Writing usually helps, but today it doesn't. I keep seeing his face, as if it's burned into my brain. My tears started to stain the pages, and I feel the itch for my only friend in my lonely world.

I walk into the bathroom, and pull the now worn black box out from my bag. I sit on the cold counter, and pull up my shirt, exposing the bruised flesh. I find a small section of skin on my side, just below the ribs, where the skin remains partially untouched. I sliced the skin with the familiar blade, and sigh in relief. I do a 5 more long strokes, whispering why I cut with each stroke. I bandage myself up, and hide my secrets. The smell of the house, alcohol and cleaner, was giving me a headache, so I redressed and headed out.

The sun was out, and a few clouds had rolled in. The weather completely conflicted with my emotions. Or perhaps it's supposed to help. It doesn't. How is that supposed to help me? After walking for a short while, down the seemingly empty street, I turned a corner, and I am confronted with a big crowd of people, surrounding the street. I hear hollers, and people chanting, "Fight!" I don't like huge crowds, of normal things. I'm actually quite a fearful person. I don't like the dark, or rather what's in the dark. I hate not knowing, or waiting. I'm inpatient. Afraid to be loved, even if it's the one thing I want most. Maybe it's because I don't think that I deserve it, because I am not that perfect little girl that I was supposed to be, well-manicured and well groomed. I have a habit of falling too hard and falling too fast, and getting my hopes up, for something that won't last. That's a quote I wrote a while ago. It's one of my favorites.

I went around the crowd, having to force my way through. Elbows dig into my sides, and my feet are stomped on. I finally make it out of the crowd, taking in deep breaths, and blinking back tears. I feel a light tap on my shoulder, and when I turn, I come face to face with a pair of green eyes. I step back, and see it's the Doctor. I smiled, while simultaneously pulling on my sleeves making sure to cover all the bruises. His eyes are filed with worry. "Are you okay Evie?" I nod, wiping the tears away. He reaches for my wrist, and I try to pull away, he holds tighter, but still gently. He lifts up the sleeve, all the way to my elbow, ever so gently. I turn my head away, feeling the prickling of tears in my eyes. I heard him gasp. His fingers trace the outline of one of the worst scars.

I turn back to him, and he is studying me carefully, as if he thought if he looked too hard I would break. "Who, did this to you?" I shake my head. "I was mugged." He frowned. "I don't believe you. Now please, tell me the truth." I shook my head again. "Your father?" I only nodded. My knees went weak, and I crumpled. He caught me, and put one of my arms around his shoulders, and started walking down the street away from the crowd. "Where are you taking me?" I wasn't really scared of this man. Besides, this man couldn't even scratch the surface of the pain I had been put through. "Away from here," was all he said. I couldn't take it anymore, and I just stopped.

POV

Evie collapsed in my arms. I held her, an arm under her knees, and one supporting her back and head. I walked down the nearest ally, and unlocked the door to the Tardis. I brought her down the hallway to the medic bay. I laid her frail body on the bed, and scanned her with the sonic. I gasped as I read the results. She had 5 broken ribs and 3 fractured_, _a broken arm, dislocated shoulder_,_ concussion, damaged, and 13 other broken or fractured bones. What had this girl been put through?

I set the Nano genes to work, fixing the broken bones, but the rest of it would take time. I could hear the bones snap back to place, and she whimpered in her sleep. Better if she wasn't awake for this. The Nano genes dissipated, and I carried her down the hallway, looking for a room that she can sleep in. the halls rearranged themselves so a door was opening in front of me.

"Thanks dear," I said softly. I placed her gingerly on the four poster bed that was in the plain blue room. She curled into a little ball, and she shivered. I draped the blankets over her, and sat on the edge of the bed, not at all sure what to do.

I woke up in an unfamiliar, yet very comfortable bed.


End file.
